Breaking the Mold
by Kara Wild
Summary: Helen and Daria make a bet to see who can change her persona the longest. Thus, while Daria suffers on the school newspaper, Helen stumbles through an art class taught by Amanda Lane.


"Daria" is owned and copyrighted by MTV. All rights reserved. This is **not** an episode, but the best imitation of an episode that I could write. Thanks to the creators of "Daria" for providing so much rich material for fanfics.... 

This is the eleventh episode of The Driven Wild Universe. It follows 

  1. "Rose-Colored Lenses," 
  2. "The Tie That Chokes," 
  3. "That Thing You Say," 
  4. "'Shipped Out," 
  5. "Andrea Speaks!", 
  6. "Cheered Down," 
  7. "None in the Family, Part One," 
  8. "None in the Family, Part Two," 
  9. "Outvoted," and 
  10. "Of Absolute Value."

I would give this one between a 1.5S and a 2S.

They won't always be this short, so enjoy them while they last!!!

**Ten Spot Promo:** The freaked-out woman is standing in the dark, holding a candle. She looks around, quivering, "W-who's there??" Then the scary looking guy shows up behind her. **Eek**!

[intro theme music...................]

# BREAKING THE MOLD

_by_

## Kara Wild

* * *

**ACT ONE**

SCENE 1 (_Lane residence, afternoon_)

(_Shot of the outside._)

**JANE:** (_off screen voice-over_) I'm telling you, Daria --

(Cut to shot of Jane painting on her canvas while simultaneously cradling a phone against her ear.)

**JANE:** -- it is **such** a drag having my mom at home again.

(Cut to shot of Daria sitting on her bed, a slight smirk playing upon her lips.)

**DARIA:** Do tell.

(_Resume shot of Jane._)

**JANE:** She **completely** stifles my creative process. If I'm painting in the neo-Renaissance Geometric style, she tells me to switch to pre-Celtic symmetrical swirls. Can you **believe** that??

**DARIA:** (_from the receiver_) Quite the fascist.

**JANE:** And not only that, she -- (_suddenly pauses as Amanda Lane flutters into the room._) Hold on a sec. (_Bt_) Mom? What are you **doing** in here?

**AMANDA:** (_spacy-serene_) My restless spirit urged me forth.

**JANE:** But this is **my** room.

**AMANDA:** Oh, I don't believe in boundaries.

**JANE:** (_clenching her teeth, into the receiver_) Grrrrrrrrrrrr...

(Amanda comes over and looks at the painting. She shakes her head with benign disapproval.)

**AMANDA:** Oh Janey, geometric **again**? Does your heart truly feel **free** when you paint that way?

**JANE:** (_straining to be patient_) No. But oppression makes for **great** inspiration -- ask Picasso. Now would you **get** out??

**AMANDA:** Hmm... my spirit could use a good cappuccino right now. I'll leave you to find inner peace on your own.

(_She waves, then flutters away. Jane groans._)

**JANE:** (_into the receiver_) And **that's** how it's been all week.

(_Split screen of Jane and Daria, with Daria on the right._)

**DARIA:** Welcome to **my** world.

**JANE:** **Ha**. No matter **how** bad things get at home, at least I have the remote satisfaction of knowing I'll never be as bad off as **you**.

**DARIA:** (_cocking an eyelid_) TouchŽ, Lane. (_Bt. sighs_) And the sad part is, you're right.

**JANE:** (_amused_) So how **are** things in Hell?

**DARIA:** Just slightly more bearable than sheer torture. Ever since my dad started helping Quinn with math, my mom's been in bonding **overdrive**.

**JANE:** (_cringing_) Got that "I'm feeling neglected" look in her eyes again?

**DARIA:** Oh yeah.

**JANE:** Better break out ye old song book.

**DARIA:** (_emphatic_) **No** way. (_Bt_) Look, I'll admit she had a point the last time she got like this, but **this** time she's got nothing to complain about. I'll just go up to her and say flat-out --

**JANE:** A hideous cancer has taken over your mouth and rotted away half your tongue, so **that's** why you can't hold a five-minute conversation with her.

(_Pause. Daria frowns._)

**DARIA:** No. That I'd stay and chat -- if I weren't on an urgent mission to kill my friend.

**JANE:** Oh, she'll never buy **that** old excuse.

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 2 (_Morgendorffer house, a short time later_)

(Shot of Daria's closed door, as seen from the outside. We see it open, and Daria step out. She walks down the hall, toward the stairs, when suddenly: )

**HELEN:** (_off screen. cheery_) Hi, Daria.

(Daria stiffens, stops, and turns around with a wary expression. Helen comes up to her.)

**HELEN:** Where're you going??

**DARIA:** I'm at the top of the stairs, so I believe the only option is down.

**HELEN:** (_slightly exasperated_) I mean where are you going once you reach the **bottom**?

**DARIA:** To a land where televisions are just slightly larger than the one in my room.

(_Helen rolls her eyes._)

**HELEN:** (_an edge in her voice_) TV in the living room **again**?? Honestly, Daria, that's all you ever **do** anymore.

**DARIA:** Until my Broadway musical hits it big.

**HELEN:** Daria... (_Pause. shakes her head._) You know I **worry** about you, sometimes.

(_Now it's Daria's turn to roll her eyes._)

**DARIA:** Mom, don't bother...

**HELEN:** Well I **really** think we should talk about your problem.

**DARIA:** What problem? I'll be fine once Jane gets done painting for school.

**HELEN:** Oh?? And what if she gets busy with something **else**??

(Daria turns and walks down the stairs. Helen hurries after her, not about to give up.)

**DARIA:** Then I'll go with Plan B: invest in those harpsichord lessons I always wanted.

**HELEN:** Come **on** now -- you **must** have other friends you could spend time with.

**DARIA:** Jodie's booked through 2012, and Andrea's just too darn optimistic for my taste. So no.

(At her response, Helen loses her eagerness and gets a look of irritation and disappointment.)

**HELEN:** For God's sake, Daria, why can't you just **humor** me for once??

(Daria walks over to the couches and takes a seat on the center couch. Helen follows, making sharp, angry gestures with her hands.)

**HELEN:** Would it hurt you to just answer me **straight** instead of nixing my ideas with your sarcastic remarks?

(_Daria sighs and rolls her eyes with exasperation._)

**DARIA:** (_patient_) Mom, what would you **like** me to tell you?

(_Beat_)

**HELEN:** (_frustrated_) I don't... know. That you're all right. Tha-that you're happy -- or at least **your** version of happy. That you've got something going on in your life. Dammit, Daria -- (drops onto the couch beside her. looks at her with pleading eyes, while Daria returns her gaze warily.) -- Quinn and **Dad** have managed to form some sort of relationship. Why can't it be that way with **us**??

**DARIA:** But I don't need help with my homework.

(Pause. Helen's expression changes from irritated to weary and saddened. Daria's a tad sorry she made that quip.)

**HELEN:** (_quieter_) I swear, Daria, I wish we could -- I mean I feel... (_groans_) Oh, I don't know **what** I feel.

(_Beat_)

**DARIA:** (_somewhat gentle _) Let me take a wild guess. Shut out? Lonely? Empty inside, maybe?

**HELEN:** **Yes**. (_looks at her, surprised -- "you **do** understand."_) Yes, that's **exactly** what I feel.

(_Beat_)

**DARIA:** Sounds like **you're** the one who needs something going on in her life.

**HELEN:** Huh??

**DARIA:** I mean these symptoms I've just described point to a larger problem than not spending time with your kid. And I don't know if talking to me would solve it. (_Pause_) Have you ever considered getting a hobby?

**HELEN:** (_hard blink, surprised_) A **what**?

**DARIA:** Hob-eee. It's that thing where you waste time, but you **enjoy** it. A hard concept for you to grasp, I'm su--

**HELEN:** (_irritated_) I **know** what a hobby is. And I've got **lots** of them. (_Bt. reflective_) Well, when I can schedule them in.... But how would **that** solve anything??

**DARIA:** It just might give you some of that satisfaction you're looking for.

**HELEN:** A hobby would? A **hobby**?? (_Bt. rolls her eyes. humoring_) Ooo-kay, Daria, that's what I need. Yes, **that's** it. I'll just get myself a **little** hobby and try to forget that my daughter's **throwing** her life away on the living room sofa.

**DARIA:** Knew you'd go for the idea.

**HELEN:** Unless...

(She casts a crafty glance at Daria, who responds with a "Who me?" look.)

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 3 (_Lawndale High, next day_)

(_Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria and Jane walking down the hall._)

**DARIA:** So we made a bet.

**JANE:** What?

**DARIA:** You heard me. She's gonna go out and get herself a hobby, while I... (_pauses, makes a sour face._)

**JANE:** You'll what? (_leans closer._)

(_Pause_)

**DARIA:** Join a... school... activity.

(_Jane bursts out laughing. Daria glares at her._)

**JANE:** Sooo... pep squad or the Civic Boosters society?

**DARIA:** I won't even dignify that with a response.

**JANE:** You **could** always help me out with painting.

**DARIA:** And risk brain damage from inhaling the fumes?

**JANE:** Tha-anks.

(_They stop at their lockers. Daria falls against hers with a clang._)

**DARIA:** Look, whatever club I join, I'll be able to quit in a week. My mom can't survive in a non-work-related atmosphere.

**JANE:** You **hope**.

**DARIA:** I **know**. Then maybe she'll finally learn to respect my privacy.

**JANE:** But what if she **outlasts** you?

**DARIA:** (_making a face_) Then I agree to let her talk to me whenever she wants, sarcasm-free.

**JANE:** Boy you must be going soft. That deal's **totally** in her favor.

**DARIA:** (_glaring_) Thanks a lot.

**JANE:** Could be worse, though. You could have **my** latest problem.

**DARIA:** What d--?

(_Suddenly Jane spots someone off screen._)

**JANE:** (_calling out_) Hey, Jodie! (_looks at Daria, smirks._) Who better to help you find your calling than the Activities Queen herself?

(_Daria rolls her eyes. We see Jodie walk over._)

**JODIE:** Hey, guys.

**JANE:** (_to Jodie_) You've got a new addition to your army of helpniks.

**DARIA:** Shut **up**.

**JODIE:** (_eyes widening with surprise_) Daria??

**JANE:** (_faux maternal tone_) It's true -- our little Daria's becoming a **joiner**.

(_Daria's face turns bright red._)

**DARIA:** You know admitting defeat's sounding better and better.

**JODIE:** (_amused, and with some satisfaction_) Aw, come on, Daria, it's not so bad on **my** side of the fence. I think I can find a place where your cynical outlook will feel at home.

**DARIA:** (_sighing_) If you're thinking of the same place **I** was thinking of, then I'll have you know I was already headed in that direction...

(_fade-out. fade-in to: _)

SCENE 4 (_a short time later_)

(Shot of Daria and Jane standing in a classroom. Daria's impassive, Jane's smirking. At their back we see several people bent over computers, some others drawing layout on a long table, and the distant sound of someone making a call for ads.)

**GUY:** (_off screen_) Welcome **aboard**, Morgendorffer!

(Cut to wide shot of Daria, Jane, and the editor of the Lawndale Lowdown -- your typical popular, preppy-type.)

**EDITOR:** We've been waiting for you to arrive!

**DARIA:** (_deadpan_) Well your prayers have been answered.

**EDITOR:** The Lowdown tries to represent all points of view, and yours would **really** give it some **oomph**.

**DARIA:** (_to Jane_) "Oomph." Sounds almost as good as "edgy."

**JANE:** (_sardonic_) And how can you **not** write for a paper with cover stories like "Seniors Havin' Fun in the Sun" or "Cafeteria Food is **Good** for You"?

**DARIA:** Those exact words just crossed my mind.

**EDITOR:** **That's** the kind of enthusiasm I like! (_fist pump._) So for your first assignment, how d' you like to write an opinion piece about the school?

**JANE:** Are you sure you know what you're asking?

**DARIA:** How can I refuse? I'm a (_sour expression_) "contributing reporter."

**EDITOR:** You **sure** are. Welcome to the Lowdown family! (_reaches out and claps Daria on the back -- hard._)

(Cut to shot of the door as seen from the hall, a short time later. Daria and Jane walk out, Daria looking slightly stunned and repulsed.)

**DARIA:** All right, I've let you in on **my** humiliation. What's **your** story?

**JANE:** My mom's teaching a sculpture class to a bunch of middle-aged yuppies. (_makes a face._) I gotta help her out.

**DARIA:** So **that's** why she's still in town. But doesn't teaching go against her anti-structure philosophy?

**JANE:** It **would** -- if she hadn't broken her kiln. She's in desperate need of cash to replace it.

**DARIA:** So greed overrides principle once again.

**JANE:** She **loved** that kiln, Daria. It was like her favorite child.

**DARIA:** And how does her **unfavorite** child figure in? (_pointed glance at Jane._)

**JANE:** (_resigned_) **I** sort of made a deal with her. I'd be her little gopher for six weeks if she **promised** to stay out of my room and not criticize my painting.

**DARIA:** (_recalling Jane's earlier words to her_) Sounds like she got the better end of the deal.

**JANE:** (_annoyed_) **And** if she promised never to comment on the **artistry** of me and Tom lip-locking.

(_Pause. Daria turns slightly red._)

**DARIA:** Um... good move.

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 5 (_Morgendorffer house, evening_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria and Quinn sitting at the kitchen table, while Helen rushes around nearby, on the phone to work.)

**HELEN:** (_crooning_) **Yes**, Eric... (_Pause_) yes... (_Pause_) **yes**... Oh I **completely** agree...

(We see Daria in the midst of writing her opinion piece for the Lowdown. Quinn has her math book out, but has temporarily pushed it aside to flip through an issue of Waif.)

**DARIA:** Hmmm... (_puts her pen to her mouth in thought._) "Sadistic bloodsuckers" or "hapless followers with no conscience or reason"? (_Pause. then finds one she likes, scribbles it down._)

**QUINN:** (_wrinkling her nose_) You are **so** morbid, Daria.

**DARIA:** Someone in this screwed-up world has to be.

(_Helen walks toward them, still absorbed in her phone call._)

**HELEN:** You **know** I always go with your judgment on these sorts of -- (_spies Quinn._) **Quinn**, put that magazine away this instant!

(Quinn purses her lips with irritation, slaps the Waif shut and pushes it aside. Meanwhile Helen has returned her attention to Eric. She listens to him with a slightly peevish expression on her face. Tries to conceal it in her tone.)

**HELEN:** Of **course** I can have it done by early next week... I mean **true** (_weak chuckle_) I have to cancel a **few** little appointments, but that's perfectly **fine** -- oh don't worry about me. Oh no... (_Pause_) Yes, **you** take care, too, Eric. (_Bt_) All right. Bye. (_hangs up, gets a resigned look._)

(_Beat_)

**DARIA:** (_smirking_) So Mom: how's hobby-hunting going?

(_Helen slams the phone on its cradle._)

**HELEN:** (_frustrated_) **Ha** -- who has **time** to look for a hobby?? Honestly, sometimes I feel the only way I could **please** that man is if I gave up sleep for **good**.

(_Beat_)

**DARIA:** No time, huh? (_sighs, faux resigned._) Then I guess we have nothing more to say to each other. (_lays her pen down, wears a look of calm._)

(Pause. Helen turns to her, expression weary and resentful. She makes a few gestures of protest before buckling under the weight of their deal.)

**HELEN:** (_tossing her hands in the air_) Look, I've done **some** searching, all right?? I attended a yoga class over my lunch break today.

**DARIA:** And?

**HELEN:** It was very **nice**, but, um... it was too, um... demanding.

**DARIA:** O-kay.

(_Beat_)

**QUINN:** Well **I**, for one, totally support you on this whole hobby thing, Mom. Just as **long** as you don't pick something that'll embarrass me or cause permanent damage to my reputation.

**HELEN:** (_rolling her eyes. sarcastic_) Oh **no**, sweetie -- we wouldn't want **that**.

(_Just then, Jake comes in._)

**JAKE:** Hey, what's cooking??

**DARIA:** Take a wild guess.

(Jake walks over to his usual spot at the table and sits down. Helen continues to pace around, exasperated.)

**HELEN:** Look, Daria, I promise to find some **damn** hobby. Okay??

**JAKE:** Hobby?

**HELEN:** Yes. But it'd be **easier** if I could decide what I most enjoy doing. (_stops pacing. looks at Jake with a thoughtful expression._) What do you think I should do, Jake?

**JAKE:** Beats me... you're good at **so** many things.

**HELEN:** Aww... well thank you. (Bt. it suddenly occurs to her that he might be bluffing. decides to apply pressure to him.) Such as?

(_Beat_)

**JAKE:** (_getting an uncomfortable look_) Well...

(_Pause_)

**HELEN:** (_hard stare_) Well...?

(_Pause_)

**JAKE:** Well... erm... um... (_Pause_) Talk-ing? (_cringes slightly as he says it, looks up. his response hasn't helped him._)

**HELEN:** (_annoyed_) Really??

**JAKE:** Yeah. And, um (_suddenly springs up out of the chair._) I'd tell you more, but I **just** heard that pesky loose floorboard creaking again. Better go fix it.

(_He leaves quickly. Helen watches him go, curls her lips._)

**DARIA:** (_calm_) Just remember that one of us has more than adequately fulfilled **her** end of the bargain. (_gestures at the article she's writing._)

**HELEN:** (_nodding_) I know, I **know**... (_Bt. suddenly goes gushy-crooning._) And I think it's **super**. You've finally found a constructive way to state your viewpoint **and** reach out to your fellow classmates!

(_Daria rolls her eyes._)

**DARIA:** **Damn**. Should've known you'd react like this. (_Bt_) But don't think that little burst of support will get you anywhere. Now it's **your** turn.

(_The enthusiasm fades from Helen's face and is replaced by exasperation._)

**DARIA:** Get a hobby, or you lose.

**HELEN:** All **right**.

**DARIA:** Which would mean no more interrogations without my approval. (_Bt. emphatic_) And it **can't** be work-related...

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 6 (_Lane residence, evening, a few days later_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of a fifty-something year-old man seated on a fold-out chair in the Lanes' basement. He's looking off screen and waving some bills in the air.)

**MAN:** Trent? Hey, Trent?? How 'bout playing a little Jefferson Airplane?

(_Trent saunters over, guitar in hand._)

**TRENT:** Sorry, mister. I only play what comes from the **soul**.

**MAN:** Twenty bucks!

**TRENT:** (_thoughtful_) Hmmm...

(_Suddenly, from off screen: _)

**PEOPLE:** No! Hendrix!/ Peter, Paul, and Mary!/ The Beatles!/ The Grateful Dead!

(Cut to a wider shot. We now see that the basement is filled with middle-aged people, dressed in raggedy clothes, smocks, et cetera. Most are seated upon fold-out chairs or metallic stools at one of three long tables. Others are perched upon some bean bag chairs that have been strewn around, or are leaning against the wall. There are about twenty in all -- and most are waving money and calling out to Trent. Trent looks a tad overwhelmed, but picks up his guitar and starts to play something. Just then, we see Jane and Amanda coming down the stairs.)

**AMANDA:** My, everyone's here already?

**JANE:** (_annoyed_) **Yes**, where they have been for almost a **half** hour.

**AMANDA:** Goodness, time passes so quickly when you're in a meditative trance.

(When she and Jane reach the bottom, Amanda walks over to the middle of the room, while Jane retreats into a corner.)

**AMANDA:** (_to the crowd_) Hello, everyone. I hope you all have had enough time to become spiritually attuned to your surroundings. Negative energy is such a downer when you're working with soft materials.

(_The crowd murmurs and nods. Cut to shot of Jane standing in her corner._)

**JANE:** (_to Trent, as he comes over_) Good thing she's not standing close to **me**.

(_Trent cocks a brow in agreement. Resume wide shot._)

**AMANDA:** Let's begin class by getting to know each other a little better, shall we? (_more nods from the crowd._) I could talk about who **I** am, your mentor, but who I am's not important. It's **you** -- you're the ones who will be breathing **life** and **soul** into your sculptures, making something out of nothing, and in the process setting yourselves **free** --

(Cut to brief shot of Jane and Trent. Jane checks her watch. Trent's eyelids are growing heavy.)

**AMANDA:** But I can't go on. Please tell me about yourselves. (_gestures at a woman off to the side._)

(_Beat_)

**WOMAN:** Um, well, um, okay -- my name's Shirley and I'm a stay-at-home mom. And I've always been a **huge** admirer of your work!

**AMANDA:** (_cringing slightly_) Please, don't talk about **me**. It's **your** moment -- you, you, you.

(She gestures at the next person, an attractive, silver-haired man -- the same one who was asking Trent to play Jefferson Airplane earlier. The man smiles.)

**MAN:** (_warm tone_) My name's Greg. Like you, I'm an art instructor, but I'm taking this class because I want to soak up a different atmosphere. Hopefully when it's done, I'll be able to take a little of it back with me when I teach my own class.

**AMANDA:** (_pleased_) How nice...

(Cut to shot of Jane and Trent. Trent has started to nod off. Jane takes his guitar -- to prevent it from dropping out of his hand and crashing on the ground. Suddenly, from off screen: )

**HELEN:** Sorry I'm late! Got stuck in a meeting, then tied up in freeway traffic for an extra twenty minutes because there'd been an accident --!

(Cut to wide shot. Helen's flying down the stairs, still dressed in her work clothes and carrying a gazillion art supplies. She rushes over to Amanda.)

**HELEN:** **Then** I had to stop at home and **explain** to my husband how to properly reheat lasagna **then** tell Quinn that Waif is **not** a subject in school so put away the damn magazine **then** grab some low-nutrition energy booster to get me through the evening because I had no time to eat dinner **myself** so **that's** why I'm late. I'm **so** sorry. (_exhales deeply._)

(She's met with silence. Amanda looks delighted to see her, while everyone else appears stunned by her sudden arrival. Cut to close-up of Jane and Trent. Trent's now fully awake, while Jane's smirking -- "Suddenly things have gotten interesting.")

**END OF ACT ONE**

[Shot of Helen rushing down the Lanes' stairs while everyone else looks on.]

You are now entering commercial **HELL**. Please keep your seat belt securely fastened. You are about to see some of the lamest commercials put on television.

  * "Next Wednesday, on the Ten Spot: This is the true story of seven teenagers, picked to live in a house and have their lives taped. Find out what happens when people **stop** being polite... on an all-new 'Daria.'"

[Btw: I planned this episode **long** before I knew Tracy Grandstaff was in the "Real World" pilot. My psychic streak continues!]

  * The most dreaded words in the English Language: "On an all-new 'Suddenly Susan'... 'Jessie'... 'Veronica's Closet'... 'Party of Five'... 'Ally'..." I'm sorry, but "Ally" is nothing more than a chopped-up, resold "Ally McBeal" episode. A blatant assault on our need for originality...

* The Gap commercials where all the models stand around singing. Okay, I'll admit I find the vest one catchy, but the one in which they wear leather creeps me out. They all look like zombies, **zombies** I tell you! Why would anyone want to wear stuff that comes with the subtle message: "Blend in... one of us... one of us... one of us..." Never mind that neither the vests nor the leather items are attractive...

You are now leaving commercial **HELL**. Aren't you happy you survived?

## 

BREAKING THE MOLD

* * *

**ACT TWO**

SCENE 1 (_Lawndale High, the next day_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane standing on a raised platform next to a school building. She's painting a large mural which looks part-Michelangelo, part-Picasso, part-Goya. Below her, we see Daria leaning against a part of the wall that isn't covered with paint.)

**DARIA:** (_smirking_) Then what happened?

**JANE:** Well, first your mom had to be **enlightened** about the way an art class is run...

(Fade-out. Fade-in to flashback of the previous night. Helen is standing at one of the tables, now wearing a smock. Both she and her neighbor are working with soft, reddish-brown clay on top of wooden boards. Her neighbor is already deeply absorbed in her sculpture: molding it with her fingers, carving pieces of it with a knife, or wetting it with a squirt bottle when the clay becomes too dry. Helen, meanwhile, struggles to make her lump into a Classical Greek figure -- she has a model set before her. She keeps trying to stick arms onto the body, only to watch with frustration as they grow too heavy and break off. At last she reaches her limit.)

**HELEN:** **Damn** it! (_smashes the figure to pulp with her fists._)

(Her neighbor scoots away from her a tad, eyes her warily. Just then, Amanda flutters over.)

**AMANDA:** (_soothing_) Oh Helen, still haven't made peace with the clay, have you?

(_Helen gets a look of panic and immediately begins molding a new form._)

**HELEN:** Oh... well, (_weak chuckle_) I think I'm getting the hang of it now. (_Bt. more anxious_) Look, I **know** I don't seem very good at this, but I **did** spend three hours late last night watching "Sculpture and You" on public broadcasting and I think I picked up a few --

**AMANDA:** Helen, it's all right.

**HELEN:** (_pleading look_) I mean **please** don't make me leave just because I'm not as good as everyone else. This is the **last** class I could find available and if I can't stay I'll **lose** the b--

**AMANDA:** Helen, Helen, there's no need for excuses, here.

**HELEN:** (_wilting a little_) It's just... I'll get better, I know I will. I pick things up **very** fast and I've **never** failed at anything I've put my mind to. Never. (_Bt. suddenly irritated._) But shouldn't you be **teaching** us?? I mean I **really** don't understand why we're paying you good money to just --

**AMANDA:** **Helen**! (_instantly reverts back to serenity._) The point of this art class isn't to pander to an archetypal standard of perfection. It's to express the inner **you**. (_reaches over to pat Helen's cheek as she says this._)

**HELEN:** The **what**? (_jerks away._) What kind of art class is **that**? What's the point of taking a class in something if you can never get **good** at it?? Like **her**. (_points to her neighbor._)

**WOMAN:** (_matter-of-fact_) I've taken art classes every summer and minored in studio art back in college.

**HELEN:** (_irritated_) Oh well aren't **we** awfully high and mighty?!

**WOMAN:** (_to Amanda_) Could I pleeeese change tables??

**HELEN:** (_tossing her hands in the air_) Well I guess I have no **choice** but to stick with this class. But let me tell you, Amanda, I am **not** happy with the structure of...

(_Meanwhile Amanda's normally placid face looks a bit weary._)

**JANE:** (_present off screen voice-over_) Let's just say she **still** doesn't get it.

(Fade-out. Fade-in to a short time later in the flashback. Helen is now at work on a different sculpture, similar to the one her neighbor's been making. Although she handles the clay in a timid manner -- poking it softly or taking off small chunks instead of kneading it -- she looks fairly relaxed.)

**JANE:** (_present off screen voice-over_) Even so, she seemed to be into it for a while. (_Pause_) Until...

**DARIA:** (_present off screen voice-over_) Yes?

**JANE:** **Disaster** struck.

(Helen keeps eyeing her neighbor's work as she sculpts. Finally her neighbor catches her, stops what she's doing.)

**WOMAN:** (_irritated_) You know, if you want sculpting tips, all you have to do is **ask**.

(_Helen pulls away from her work. Looks at the woman, outraged._)

**HELEN:** Are you accusing me of **copying**?? Because I'll have you know that I have never copied a day in my **life**. I'm perfectly capable of learning how to sculpt on my **own**!

(With that, she flings her hand at her neighbor, forgetting that she's been holding a rolled-up piece of clay. The clay flies from her grasp and hits her neighbor's face. For a few seconds both Helen and the other woman are too shocked to speak. Then the woman becomes enraged.)

**WOMAN:** Oh that is **it**. You've been **pissing** me off all evening! You want to watch me handle clay?? (_sinks her hand into the putty-like substance._) Then watch **this**.

(She heaves a fistful at Helen, which splatters on her face and on the front of her smock. Helen stands there for a moment, stunned, before becoming equally enraged. She takes a large mass of clay and hurls it at her neighbor; it hits her neighbor's shoulder and even gets on another person's face. Her neighbor retaliates, and pretty soon we have **war**. Helen and the other woman battle it out while everyone else watches with fascination -- even Amanda.)

**DARIA:** (_present off screen voice-over_) So **that's** where that dried brown stuff on her face came from.

(_Fade-out. Fade-in to the present shot of Daria and Jane._)

**DARIA:** This is **too** easy. She'll be out of there before the next class starts.

**JANE:** (_smirking wickedly_) Meanwhile, how're things on **your** end, my cub reporter?

(Daria blushes. Fade-out. Fade-in to flashback taking place an hour or two ago. We see a close-up of the Lowdown editor. He's holding Daria's article and wearing a snaky smile.)

**EDITOR:** Y' know, Daria...

(_Cut to wide shot of him and Our Heroine._)

**DARIA:** (_not fooled by his b.s. demeanor_) Yes?

**EDITOR:** Your article's **really** got oomph, it **really** does...

**DARIA:** **Yes**??

**EDITOR:** Buuuuuut... it's kind of **too** oomphy, if you know what I mean.

**DARIA:** No.

**EDITOR:** We-eell... see, we're a paper that likes oomph, but **good** oomph, the right amount of **oomph**...

**DARIA:** Is there an ape in here?

**EDITOR:** Huh? (_Bt_) Now you see Larry over there?

(Cut to shot of Larry. He's sitting at a computer, but turned to the side so that his long hairy legs are propped up on one of the tables. He wears a backward baseball cap and a lazy expression, and is busy inhaling a huge slice of pizza. Resume shot of Daria and the editor.)

**DARIA:** I've been trying not to.

**EDITOR:** Now **he** is someone who can produce good oomph. Look at one of his articles: (_points to one in the copy he's holding._) "Never Fear -- Fun Time's Here"! It's about how you can still enjoy yourself even while you're at school. He only wrote it in twenty minutes, but he **still** managed to give it a message and make it enjoyable.

**DARIA:** And also managed to misspell half his words in the process.

**EDITOR:** A minor technicality.

**DARIA:** (_reading_) "Fun tip number one: pour a lot of blue and yellow dye into the swimming pool to make it spirited." (_Bt_) Oh yeah, that'll make my day.

**EDITOR:** Yeah, it's really inspiring. See now, if you'd just taken a page from Larry...

(_Beat. Daria groans softly._)

**DARIA:** Listen, I just wrote about what I see. You **did** know that's how I write when you fell all over me a few days ago, didn't you??

**EDITOR:** Hey, all I knew was that you got A's in all your English classes and Mr. O'Neill thinks you're some kind of **god**. That was enough for me.

(_Daria rolls her eyes -- "Figures."_)

**EDITOR:** But if you don't feel like brightening up your writing, that's okay. 'Cause we could still **really** use you on the paper.

**JANE:** (_present off screen voice-over_) **For**?

(_Cut to present shot of Daria and Jane._)

**DARIA:** For **survey** taking. (_holds one up to Jane._)

**JANE:** (_reading_) Which is your favorite topical skin cleanser? Oxy... Clearasil... (_shakes her head._) Good lord.

**DARIA:** (_deadpan_) Well, which one?

**JANE:** So, is this their attempt to **bore** you off the staff?

**DARIA:** Probably. But whatever they do, I'll stick it out. (_cocks an eyelid._) Unless they make me fashion reporter.

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 2 (_Helen's SUV, the following week_)

(Shot of the SUV driving along the freeway in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Cut to inside shot. Helen is on the cell phone, wearing a contrite, conflicted expression.)

**HELEN:** (_mustering a crooning tone_) **Hello**? Amanda?

**AMANDA:** (_from the receiver. warm_) Helen. Somehow I sensed you would call.

**HELEN:** Um, right. (_Bt_) Listen, I'm sorry, but I **really** don't think I can make it this evening. I've just got **so** much paperwork to go through, which I have to have ready by Friday, and... um, I just wanted to let you... know. (_glances at a tall stack of files on the passenger side seat._)

**AMANDA:** Now, Helen, are you still upset because you don't feel sure of your creative capabilities? Or because Patty called you a nasty, gutless, whining sellout?

(_Helen's face turns a little pale._)

**HELEN:** Um... (_shakes her head. more vehement._) No, **no**, really. I'm a **busy** woman, Amanda. Maybe **you** can afford to drop everything and flitter across the country on a **whim**, but **I've** got two important cases coming up that **need** my attention. (_voice rising_) I'm not going to make it to class every week, and I **certainly** can't to this one.

(_Pause_)

**AMANDA:** Very well. But it's too bad... somehow it feels like you could use this class more than anyone.

(Helen opens her mouth, ready to protest, then slowly closes it. Her face takes on a reflective look.)

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 3 (_Lane residence, later that evening_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane walking past the tables, holding a basket of surplus art supplies, which she offers to each occupant. As she's doing so, she glances off screen.)

**JANE:** (_under her breath_) Back for Round Two, I see.

(Cut to brief shot of Helen. She's standing at her own table -- everyone else having chosen to be a safe distance away -- and continues to work with clay. Actually, **struggle** would be a better word. Jane shakes her head, retreats into her corner. A few seconds later, we see Trent approach her from the stairs, guitar in hand.)

**JANE:** Don't you have rehearsal?

**TRENT:** Hey, the gigs pay better here. (_Bt_) Besides, there's more **entertainment**. (_nods toward Helen._)

**JANE:** (_smirking_) I'll say.

(Cut to shot of Amanda, roaming around the room, observing the various sculptures in progress. She stops to watch one man hack the bark off of a dead log. The man swings his axe with swift, decisive strokes, always landing on target.)

**AMANDA:** (_admiring_) Paul, it's so noble of you to return life to a thing that has died. What will you call this piece?

**PAUL:** Satan's Death Stare. (_continues hacking._)

**AMANDA:** Oh.

(She quickly moves on to the next person. We see that it's Greg, at work on a formless multi-media project of clay, plaster, and paint.)

**AMANDA:** Why Greg, what a creative blend of materials.

**GREG:** (_smiling_) Thanks, Amanda.

(Amanda observes him for a few seconds longer, before turning to the next person -- Helen. Her serene look gives way to a benevolent frown.)

**AMANDA:** Helen, Helen... (_shakes her head._)

(Helen looks up, startled. She's been so absorbed in her work, she lost all track of time and her surroundings.)

**AMANDA:** Helen, when I look at your sculpture, I see clay that's... **trapped**. (_clenches her fists for emphasis._) **Repressed**. It has no spirit.

**HELEN:** (_losing all patience_) Well then what do you **want**?! (_smashes the structure into a formless heap._) I mean **why** bother to shape the clay at **all** if you're so worried about it being **trapped**?!

**AMANDA:** Yes, but...

**HELEN:** I mean clay has to be trapped **somehow** if it's to become a **sculpture**.

(_Cut to shot of Jane and Trent, watching Helen. Jane frowns mildly._)

**JANE:** Y' know it's weird: I kind of feel sorry for her.

**TRENT:** Hmm, yeah.

(Resume shot of Helen and Amanda. Helen heaves a sharp sigh and rolls her eyes in an "I give up" manner. She runs her hands along her smock, trying to wipe off the dried clay.)

**AMANDA:** (_soothing_) Ah, but you see, there's a difference between "formed" and "trapped." Clay that is **trapped** has no spirit. I'm still seeing you try to make something that comes from **outside** of you.

**HELEN:** I just don't understand -- how in **God's** name do you make something from **inside** of you??

**AMANDA:** All you have to do is **clear** your mind. (_closes her eyes, spreads out her arms._) Let your thoughts be **free**...

(_Helen watches her, looking extremely confused. Just then Greg comes over._)

**GREG:** 'Scuse me, Amanda, I don't mean to intrude. But before Helen starts molding from her mind, maybe she needs some pointers.

(Amanda nods in agreement. Greg walks over to the opposite side of the table from Helen. Looks her in the eye and smiles.)

**GREG:** See, now, you're being too timid with the clay. The clay is your friend, not your enemy. (_his smile deepens, compelling Helen to smile back at him._) Now just take big slabs and **press** them together like this. (_demonstrates, working the clay hard with his long fingers._) Make sure your framework is really solid. Worry about smoothing it out later. (_Bt_) Now why don't you try?

**HELEN:** O-kay... (_takes small lumps of clay and starts pressing them together._)

**GREG:** Hmm, almost. But...

(He reaches over and takes Helen's hands in his, then gently spreads out her fingers to show that she needs to take larger pieces. Helen nods, a little disconcerted. She takes fist-sized chunks and presses one on top of the other. Greg nods with approval.)

**GREG:** That's it. You do that, and your structure, whatever it is, will be a lot stronger.

**HELEN:** Um, right. (_Bt_) Th-thank you.

**GREG:** No problem.

(_He returns to his table. Amanda puts a hand on Helen's shoulder._)

**AMANDA:** There now, is that better? It's as I was telling Janey about geometric --

**JANE:** (_off screen_) Would you **stop** with the geometric versus swirls, already?!

(_Amanda starts chuckling. Helen does, too, a little._)

**AMANDA:** Children. (_shakes her head._)

**HELEN:** Oh, **yes**. (_Bt. kneads together the two chunks of clay._) You know the only reason I'm in this class is to prove a point to Daria. (_tears off another two lumps of clay from the large heap._) To teach her the importance of extending herself and trying new things. (_presses the lumps forcefully against her new structure._) I mean she **can't** just spend every day at home sitting in front of the T.V., can she?? (presses her hands hard against either side of the structure, so that it forms a narrow column shape.)

**AMANDA:** Television drains the soul of its creativity, leaving a shell of **nothingness**.

**HELEN:** (_not hearing her. irritation creeping in_) And even if I never have a right to ask about her life **again**, at **least** she'll be broadening her horizons. (continues to mold for several more seconds, before digging her fingers into the clay.) **Dammit** -- shut **me** out, will she?! (twists the structure around, tears pieces off and presses them back on again in a haphazard manner.) What's so **wrong** with me wanting to have a silly little **chat** with her every once in a while?? What is she **afraid** of?! What did I **ever** do to --?!

**AMANDA:** Helen! That's amazing!

**HELEN:** Huh?

(She stops molding and steps away. Looks at the sculpture, which is now twisted and bent in an interesting pattern, similar to the shape of a wild mushroom. It still bears the imprints of Helen's fingers.)

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 4 (_Lawndale High, the next day_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane, Daria, and the 3 Js at the wall where Jane's been painting. Jane is sitting on the raised platform, legs dangling over the edge, while Daria stands on the ground, in the midst of conducting a survey.)

**DARIA:** (_extreme deadpan_) So **Sarah Michelle Gellar** is the biggest "betty" on TV today?

**JOEY/JEFFY/JAMIE:** Oh **yeah**!!!

**DARIA:** And you think she should be president of the United States?

(_The 3 Js, nod vehemently. Daria stifles a groan._)

**DARIA:** And your reason would be...?

**JEFFY:** (_doing a fist pump_) 'Cause she kicks **ass**, man!!!

**JAMIE:** **Ye-ahhhhh**!!

**JOEY:** We wouldn't, like, even **need** an army 'cause she could, like, drive a stake through the bad guys' hearts and get that other chick to cast a spell an' kill all the other bad guys!

**JEFFY/JAMIE:** **Yeah**!!

**JANE:** (_sardonic_) And who would be **vice-president**?

(_The guys looks at each other, pause to think. Then: _)

**JOEY/ JEFFY/ JAMIE:** **Quinn**!!!!

(_Daria rolls her eyes. Jane smirks._)

**DARIA:** Now **there** would be a meeting of the minds.

**JANE:** (_to the 3 Js_) Just **vice**-president? Gee, she must not mean much to you if she only gets **second**-place status.

(_The 3 Js get a look of panic._)

**JOEY:** No, no! The only reason she's not **president** --

**JAMIE:** -- is 'cause, um, we don't want her to get too stressed-out.

**JEFFY:** With making war an' stuff, yeah. (_nods vehemently._)

(_Jane's smirk widens. Daria exhales sharply and rolls her eyes._)

**DARIA:** I don't suppose it occurred to you that neither **she** nor Sarah Michelle Gellar is old enough to be president. Or that Sarah Michelle Gellar is an **actress** -- not a vampire slayer. Or that you guys will be **voting** in a few years, so therefore your ignorance of today's issues can only be described as "inexcusable." Even dangerous.

(_long pause_)

**JOEY:** (_frowning_) You really know how to take the fun out of things, Daria.

(He and the other two Js leave. Daria tosses one of the survey sheets into the air, and she and Jane watch it float to the ground.)

**JANE:** Show a little enthusiasm, why don't you?

**DARIA:** (_irritated_) Don't tell me you're on **their** side.

**JANE:** (_scoffing_) Those walking hormones?? (_Bt_) I **meant** why are you just reading these boring surveys to people?

**DARIA:** Because I can't trust them to know how to read, themselves.

**JANE:** C'**mon**, Daria -- "Who are TV's 'betties' and 'hotties'?" You're capable of better.

**DARIA:** (_slightly defensive_) Hey, in case you've forgotten, I got this **assigned** to me. If I refuse, the cretins who run the Lowdown might kick me off, and that means...

**JANE:** (_nodding_) Yeah, yeah -- bet.

**DARIA:** (_cocking an eyelid_) So how're things on the other end?

**JANE:** Well, your mother was **marginally** less embarrassing last night than the previous week. (_sees Daria's worried look._) Marginally.

(_Daria sighs._)

**DARIA:** **Great**. With my luck, she'll become hooked and never want to leave.

**JANE:** Hmm, yeah. (_Bt_) I'd offer to sabotage her work, but I think whatever I'd do would be an **improvement**.

**DARIA:** (_resigned_) In any case, it looks like I'm stuck.

**JANE:** Yep.

**DARIA:** You know I wouldn't mind being on the paper so much if they'd give me something **normal** to do, like write an article. A lot of things go on at this school that have never been brought to light. (_Bt. reflective_) That need to be.

**JANE:** (_vague surprise_) Do I detect social conscience in your voice?

**DARIA:** (_reddening a bit_) Um, no. (_Bt_) But these **surveys** are a complete waste of space and ink. I hate giving them.

**JANE:** So don't.

**DARIA:** (_annoyed_) I just told you --

**JANE:** Hey, they said to give surveys. (_smirks wickedly._) They never said **which** surveys, did they?

(_Beat. Daria returns the smirk._)

**DARIA:** Hmm... you know I feel a twisted idea coming on.

(She turns over one of the surveys, removes a pen from her backpack, and starts jotting down some new questions. Jane watches with approval.)

**JANE:** Ooooh, very wicked, my friend.

(Several seconds later, just as Daria's finishing up, we see Kevin and Brittany walk past.)

**BRITTANY:** Kevvy, look at the wall!

**KEVIN:** Yeah, babe, **cooool**.

(_Beat_)

**JANE:** (_calling_) Hey, you two lovebirds...

**DARIA:** How'd you like to answer a survey?

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 5 (_Morgendorffer house, evening at the beginning of the next week_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria and Quinn sitting at the kitchen table, while Helen rushes back and forth, preparing the lasagna. As she's setting it down on the table, she notices that Quinn is reading the latest issue of the Lowdown. Looks at it, then at Daria.)

**HELEN:** Daria, why didn't you **tell** us the school paper was out??

**DARIA:** (_deadpan_) My humility got the better of me.

**HELEN:** Well I want to see what you've written.

**DARIA:** (_going slightly red_) Um...

(_Quinn flips through the pages, scanning each one._)

**QUINN:** I don't see you **anywhere**, Daria.

(Helen looks at Daria, raises her brows in an exasperated "Care to explain yourself?" manner. Daria groans.)

**DARIA:** I **am** on staff, just not as a regular reporter.

**HELEN:** Then what **do** you do?

**QUINN:** (_eyes fixed on a page_) **God** (_chuckles_) who gives these **surveys**?? They are sooooo weird. "If the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync fought to the death, who would you want to see killed and why?" (_Bt. smirks at Daria._) Oh. It was you.

**DARIA:** (_deadpan_) Surprise.

(_Pause. Helen looks at her, indeed, with genuine surprise._)

**HELEN:** **Surveys**?

**DARIA:** Were you expecting the society column?

**HELEN:** (_shaking her head_) I don't understand: why didn't they let you **write** something? Surely they must know how **talented** you are.

**DARIA:** (_bitterness creeping in_) All they care about is that every writer's viewpoint matches their own. And mine definitely does **not**.

**HELEN:** But --

**DARIA:** Look, I'm contributing to the paper, and I'm interacting with other people. (_pointed look at Helen._) That's **really** the only thing that matters, isn't it?

**HELEN:** Um... (_looks like she wants to say something else, then changes her mind._) Well sure it is.

(She sits down at the table to cut the lasagna. Daria smirks -- now it's **her** turn to go on the offensive.)

**DARIA:** So... **Jane** was telling me that your art class --

(_Helen drops the spatula, forces a chuckle._)

**HELEN:** Oh-ho, Jane! I can only **imagine** what she's told you. Probably that I look a little **absurd**...

**DARIA:** That's putting it mildly.

**HELEN:** But, um... (_frowns a little_) whatever she's said, just remember that it's probably because she's an **artist**, and she's not used to seeing people with less **experience** work with the materials.

**DARIA:** (_not buying it_) If you say so.

(_Just then, Jake wanders in. He sits down at his usual place._)

**HELEN:** But I **am** enjoying that class. **Really** I am.

**DARIA:** Sure.

(_Helen picks up the spatula and begins serving the lasagna._)

**HELEN:** (_hesitant. reflective_) I mean **yes**, it's true that I have to alter my work schedule to fit it in... which is something I'm **still** not comfortable with... and I **hate** being away from all of you. (pauses for a moment to gauge her family's response -- sees that Jake looks preoccupied and Quinn mildly interested.) But even so... when I think about going, I get a little... excited.

**DARIA:** (_surprised_) Really?

**HELEN:** Yes. (_Pause_) I mean, it's sort of **fun** getting to talk to people. Well... er... (_recalls that many of these "talks" haven't been too friendly._) some of them. And I like getting to create something with my own two hands rather than have it be **pre-made** and packaged for me. (_smirks slightly._) Not to mention getting a little **messy** from the clay --

**QUINN:** (_catching her last words_) Eww... **messy**?? (_shudders a little._) That does **not** sound like any class **I** would like.

(_Pause_)

**HELEN:** (_an edge in her voice_) Well then I guess you should be glad **you're** not the one taking it. (_Bt_) Look, I'm as surprised as **you** by how it's been growing on me. I never thought of myself as the artistic type. (_Bt_) Did you, Jake?

(_Pause. Then Jake revives._)

**JAKE:** Huh? (_Bt_) Sorry, sweetheart, I wasn't listening.

**HELEN:** (_icier tone_) Oh? Got something more **important** on your mind?

**JAKE:** Important? 'Course **not**. (_chuckles._) Nothing's more important than **you**.

**HELEN:** (_placated_) Aww... Well anyw--

**JAKE:** But now that you mention it: Helen, could I run a pitch by you I've been wanting to make to a client?? He said he was looking to market a new educational toy, so I thought: what about math problems as **pets**!

(_Beat_)

**HELEN:** (_a tad startled_) Well I guess, bu--

**JAKE:** You can thank **Quinn** for my inspiration. (_winks in her direction._) It'd be kind of like PokŽmon -- you'd wear one around your neck and feed it and take care of it...

**QUINN:** (_pleased by his praise_) Ooh, Dad, that'd be **neat**. You know **I** was just thinking the other day how much **pi** is like a cute little animal.

**DARIA:** (_sardonic_) 'Cause eating it a la mode gives you that warm 'n' fuzzy feeling?

**QUINN:** (_scoffing_) **Not** pie -- **pi**. That squiggly thing that marks the circumference of a circle. Y' know how it's got those **cute** little legs...

**JAKE:** Hey yeah -- it **does**, doesn't it? I hadn't even thought of that... (_pauses to make a mental note of it._) And those higher power numbers, the little ones that go next to the big ones -- they're cute too, aren't they?

**QUINN:** (_wrinkling her nose in thought_) Yeah... they're cute. But pi is **cute**. If pi were on the Endangered Species list, I'd be, like, **really** upset.

**DARIA:** Heaven forbid.

**JAKE:** (_to Helen_) But anyway, I really think this idea could **go** somewhere! But I thought I'd ask **you** how to give the big sell 'cause you're always so **good** at that assertive, getting-people-to-pay-attention crap. (_Bt_) So what d' you think??

(_Pause_)

**HELEN:** Well... your idea sounds good... and you have the right amount of enthusiasm. (_Pause_) I don't think you'll have any problem getting your pitch across.

**JAKE:** **Great**, I was hoping you'd say that. (_Bt_) So sorry I interrupted -- let's get back to what we were talking about before. Your art class, or something -- right, Helen??

**DARIA:** (_droll_) I believe so.

**JAKE:** What were you gonna say?

(_Pause_)

**HELEN:** Nothing.

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 6 (_Lane residence, the next evening_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Helen working on a big wire frame, which stands atop a long wooden board. To one side of the frame we see a heap of cheesecloth and a big bucket of water. Helen leans down, picks up a sack of plaster dust, and pours it into the water Then, as it bubbles and fizzes, she reaches for a spoon and stirs the water until it turns gray. Just then, Jane appears bearing extra art supplies.)

**JANE:** So you've given up on clay, huh?

**HELEN:** (_a tad defensive, remembering what Daria told her_) It was just getting too **easy** for me. Plaster requires more planning, and therefore should be **much** more interesting to work with.

**JANE:** Uh, yeah. (_glances at the wire structure, then at the bucket._) You sure you know what you're doing?

**HELEN:** Of **course**. Your mother and Greg taught me all there is to know, so I **really** don't think I'll have any problems.

**JANE:** (_shrugging_) Whatever you say.

(She starts to leave. Just then, Helen notices that several wires have detached themselves from her framework, causing it to split open.)

**HELEN:** Dammit! I thought I'd -- (_seizes a pair of pliers and hastily reattaches the wires._)

**JANE:** Need help?

**HELEN:** **No**. I'm **fine**. You can just run **along**, this is all a part of my learning process. (_returns to bending wires. grumbles._) Not that **some** people would care...

(_Again, Jane delays leaving, having overheard this last bit._)

**HELEN:** (_bending harder, grumbling_) Oh no, don't listen to what **I** have to say, don't care about what's going on with **me**.... (_some of the wires detach. Helen slams down the pliers._) Dammit **why** won't these stupid things stay **put**?!

(Her outburst has caught the attention of several other students, many of whom look at each other and nod a "She's at it again." Meanwhile, Jane notices that Helen slamming down the pliers has caused the bucket of plaster to jiggle... and veer dangerously close to the edge of the table.)

**JANE:** Um, Mrs. Morgendorffer...

**HELEN:** (_oblivious, now bending the wires with her fingers_) I mean I try and I try... I want to help them out, I want to **be** there for them, but do I **ever** get that kind of consideration in return? From **any** of them?? (_cuts a finger on one of the wires._) **Owww**! Dammit!!

**JANE:** Here's a rag. (_reaches into her basket and pulls one out. hands it to Helen._) Look, **watch** the plaster, or it'll tip over.

**HELEN:** **Fine**. (picks up the bucket, whose contents have changed from thin gray water to soft gray mud. sets it on the opposite end of the board from her wire structure.)

(Jane exhales softly and turns to leave. Helen looks at the structure, tears of frustration filling her eyes.)

**HELEN:** Damn, I **hate** this thing. Why has everything I've set out to do lately gone **wrong**?? (in a burst of anger, takes the pliers and beats them against the frame, warping its shape.) I tell Jake I don't **mind** if he helps Quinn with math, and now they have their own little (_**whack**_) bond, and they just **ignore** me. (_**whack, whack**_)

(The wooden board jiggles with every blow, causing the plaster to do the same. Meanwhile the opposite side of the board, the side with the structure, is creeping over the edge of the table. Jane's moved a distance away, but when she turns in Helen's direction, she catches what's going on.)

**HELEN:** I ask Daria to tell me about her **life** and she threatens to close herself off for good. (_**whack, whack**_) I mean it's reached the point where I don't know what to **do** anymore! (preparing for another blow, she presses her elbow down sharply on the vulnerable corner of the board.)

**JANE:** (_calling_) Dammit, look out!

(But her warning is useless. Like something shot out of a catapult, the bucket of plaster flies up and overturns directly on Helen's head. For several seconds she remains paralyzed, as a thick gray substance seeps down her hair, face, and shoulders. At last she reaches up, yanks the bucket off of her head, and tosses it to the ground.)

**END OF ACT TWO**

[Split screen of Daria conducting a survey, Helen in the midst of a clay war.]

You are now entering commercial **HELL**. Please keep your seat belt securely fastened. You are about to see some of the lamest commercials put on television.

  * We're approaching November, folks, which means... campaign ads! Even though it's not a big election year (_thank God_), we all probably have to suffer through some. And no matter who they're for, they all bear the same tell-tale marks of insincerity, preachiness, and plain ol' mean-spiritedness...

* The International House of Pancakes commercial where the syrups come to life and talk about what makes them so appealing. Pecan syrup: "I hear the ladies **really** go for the pecan." Um, 'kay, what is the purpose of this ad? It doesn't work for comedy, and the display of pancakes alone would tempt people to go to IHOP. Dunno about you, but I'd be less inclined to use syrup if I associated it with a lusty guy in a pecan costume. ;-)

* McDonalds ads: Goliath-sized company... crappy food... stupid red-haired clown. Need I go on?

You are now leaving commercial **HELL**. Aren't you happy you survived?

## 

BREAKING THE MOLD

* * *

**ACT THREE**

SCENE 1 (_Lane residence, late that same night_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane and Trent sitting at the kitchen table. Jane's sipping tea and looking drowsy. Trent is snoozing, his cheek against the table top. Off screen, we hear the sound of pipes creaking with the rush of water. When it finally ceases, Jane nudges Trent.)

**JANE:** Yo -- **Trent**.

**TRENT:** (_stirring_) But officer, she **acts** like she's eighteen... huh? (_blinks_) Janey. What time is it?

**JANE:** Eleven thirty-five. (_Bt_) Look, Daria's mom just finished her **third** shower. Let's just tell her she looks good and send her home.

**TRENT:** (_cocking a brow_) Got it.

(_long pause. Then we see Helen and Amanda walk in._)

**AMANDA:** (_to Helen. supportive_) ... It was so fascinating how for that **brief** moment in time, you and the art became **one**. Oh how I **wish** I could have had that experience.

**HELEN:** (_irritated. weary_) Yes, **I** wish you had, too. Then **I** wouldn't have been the one humiliated.

(We see that she and Amanda have been pretty successful at scraping away the plaster -- quite a feat, since the plaster hardened into cement between the time of Helen's disaster and her first shower. From face to hands, Helen's skin is now very pink due to constant scrubbing. No plaster remains in her hair, either. The only problem is, all of the washing has turned Helen's hair into a wreck -- half of it stands straight up.)

**HELEN:** I need to call home...

(She moves toward the phone. Trent looks at her hair, cocks an impressed eyebrow.)

**TRENT:** Hey, **cool** look.

(Helen pauses, looks at him. Her face goes pale and she runs a hand across her hair. Then tears well up in her eyes, spill over.)

**JANE:** (_to Trent. muttering_) **Nice** one, Hendrix.

**TRENT:** (_defensive_) I was just doing what you --

**HELEN:** Oh who am I **kidding**??

(She collapses into a chair and lays her arms on the table, then buries her face in them. Jane and Trent watch with discomfort as she cries softly.)

**JANE:** (_awkward. trying to be supportive_) Hey, trust me, it's not that bad. You've gotten most of the plaster chips out, and a little gel will smooth your hair **right** --

**HELEN:** (_lifting her face_) Not **that**. (_Bt_) I mean what **ever** made me think I could take this on??

**AMANDA:** (_reaching forward and putting her hands on Helen's shoulders_) Yes, plaster **can** be awfully stubborn, which is why I usually discourage first-time students from --

**HELEN:** I'm talking about this class! (glances from one Lane to the next as if they're all crazy. then sits up straighter and gazes at the table top.) What made me think I could do art? I never showed any talent for it in the past, so **how** could I think I'd improve now? There's no **point** in trying something if you know you're just going to fail at it.

(_Pause. The Lanes exchange troubled looks._)

**AMANDA:** But don't you enjoy it, Helen?

(_Helen heaves a sob and sniffles loudly._)

**HELEN:** M-maybe a little. All right, **more** than a little, but that doesn't matter. I-it's just been a waste of time.

(_long pause_)

**JANE:** Were you expecting to learn everything in three weeks?

**HELEN:** N-no... but there are things I could have been doing that were **much** more important.

**JANE:** Such as?

**HELEN:** Spending time with my family... catching up on all the paperwork that's been piling... reorganizing my campaign for the library board... (_heaves another sob._) Dammit, there's s-so much to do and never enough **time**. I've just been goofing off! Wh-what made me think I could **do** that??

(Her tears intensify, and her shoulders quiver from the sobs. In a maternal gesture, Amanda wraps her arms around Helen's shoulders and begins to rock slowly. Meanwhile, Jane and Trent look on with extreme discomfort.)

**JANE:** (_awkward_) Maybe because... you're a human being.

(_Helen continues to cry for several more seconds before Jane's words sink in._)

**HELEN:** (_sniff, sob_) Wh-what... w-w-wha--?

**AMANDA:** Shhh, Helen. (_Bt_) What Janey means is that it's natural for every person to want a little time to themself. In fact, a wise old Navajo chief who sells souvenirs by the freeway once told me that a piece of your soul will die **every** year, unless you take dips in the pool of **you**.

**HELEN:** (_sniff_) Huh?

**AMANDA:** I'm saying that we need time to explore ourselves, **nurture** ourselves, until we've learned to love our imperfections **along** with our virtues. (_squeezes Helen's shoulders one last time before releasing her._) So don't be upset that you took some time for **yourself**, Helen. You were just exploring that sweet little **Heleny-ness** that exists inside you.

**JANE:** "Heleny-ness"?

**TRENT:** (_impressed_) Whoa, Mom. Deep stuff.

**AMANDA:** (_pleased_) Thank you, dear.

**HELEN:** (_sniffling, but sounding calmer_) I-I see what you mean. (_Pause_) I think.

**JANE:** (_to Helen_) Yeah, I mean haven't you ever done something just to **relax** and have fun? Something you **know** you kind of suck at, but you do it anyway 'cause it gives you this really great feeling?

(_Beat_)

**HELEN:** No.

**AMANDA:** Oh come now, Helen, surely --

**HELEN:** **No**. (_Bt. sober_) I can't remember a **single** time I've done something I'm **bad** at for the hell of it. I've never been allowed to mess up -- everyone's always expected me to be **perfect**. My father and mother... my teachers... my employers... my husband. E-everyone.

(_Pause_)

**TRENT:** (_sympathetic_) Sounds pretty rough.

**JANE:** Yeah. No one can be perfect all the time.

(Helen's shoulders sag, as though she's realizing this for the first time. Gets a depressed look on her face.)

**TRENT:** Hey, Mrs. Morgendorffer, I know how it is. I've been there, myself.

**AMANDA:** **You**, sweetie?

(_Jane smothers a chuckle of disbelief. Helen looks at Trent with surprise._)

**TRENT:** Always feeling like I can't do for myself 'cause of what other people expect of me.

**AMANDA:** But your father and I have always let you children roam free...

**TRENT:** (_shaking his head_) Not you, Mom. I mean **other** people. People in general. Teachers, cops, girlfriends... **man**, the whole world.

**HELEN:** (_sober_) What do they tell you?

**TRENT:** (_vaguely bitter_) They say: "you're throwing your life away playing in a band. Better go out and do something **practical**, like get a job. Or else you'll always be stuck in Lawndale."

(_Pause_)

**HELEN:** That's... not very nice of them. (looks a little guilty as she says this, because it sounds like something **she'd** have told Trent.)

**TRENT:** (_shrugging_) The thing is, I kind of already know Mystik Spiral's not gonna go anywhere. We'll probably just be townies, if we don't break up this year.

(At this admission, Jane gets a solemn look on her face. She never realized Trent was that aware of his band's problems.)

**TRENT:** But when I think about doing something that might get me somewhere, I get a little sick inside. I love playing the guitar. Nothing else even comes close to giving me that high -- an' without it, not even the greatest job in the world could make me happy. No millions of dollars, nothing.

(He pauses to yawn. Meanwhile, Amanda watches him, pleased that her artsy philosophies have rubbed off so well. Jane is still solemn, and Helen appears to be listening intently.)

**TRENT:** Sticking with my guitar is worth some sacrifices. You know what I mean?

(_Pause. Then Helen nods slowly, a reflective look on her face._)

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 2 (_Lawndale High, the next day_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane standing with Daria at the wall where she's been painting. This time, she's helping Daria conduct surveys -- the surveys which they've created, that is. As they're on the lookout for passing students: )

**JANE:** Hey Daria, I was thinking: maybe you oughta move on to Plan B.

**DARIA:** What d' you mean?

**JANE:** I mean I think your mom's gonna stay in sculpture class for the remainder.

**DARIA:** (_dispirited_) So no major catastrophes?

**JANE:** Uh... no. It was a pretty quiet evening.

**DARIA:** **Great**. (_sighs._) 'Cause there **is** no Plan B.

**JANE:** (_surprised_) You haven't come up with a back-up plan?

(Before Daria can respond, a bunch of students walk up. They stare at Jane's painting.)

**GUY:** What **is** that?

**JANE:** (_mildly amused_) Whatever **you** think it is, sport.

**GUY 2:** **Man**, that stuff is really creepy.

**DARIA:** (_deadpan_) As are most flowers and rainbows.

**GUY 2:** I don't mean **that** stuff. I mean those weird shapes **around** them. They look like arrows.

**GUY:** Yeah, maybe bullets.

**GIRL:** (_to Jane. timid_) Is this your way of channeling aggression so you won't...?

(_Beat_)

**JANE:** (_sardonic_) Turn it on the student body?

(_Pause. Then the girl nods, looking sorry she asked the question._) [*] see "Outvoted"

**JANE:** (_b.s-ing_) Well there's **that**, plus the fact that I'm cheaper than any professional painter. Li prevents a security risk **and** saves money for bullet-proof windows in her office.

**GIRL:** Oh! That makes sense.

**DARIA:** (_sick of this subject_) Glad to hear it. Now would you care to answer a few **questions**? (_rattles her piece of paper for emphasis._)

(_Beat_)

**GIRL & GUYS:** Sure.

(_Beat_)

**DARIA:** (_reading. deadpan_) Number one: if you found out the teachers were all from another planet --

**JANE:** A thing we've suspected for quite some time.

**DARIA:** -- which planet would they come from?

(_Pause_)

**GIRL & GUYS:** Mars!/ Pluto!/ Endor!

**DARIA:** Grreat. (_pauses to jot this down._) And now, question two --

**JANE:** (_reading_) Suppose these alien teachers were plotting a world takeover. Which weapon of mass destruction would they use against us? Nuclear explosives, stun rays, or the complete collection of John Tesh's greatest hits?

(_Pause. The students go pale._)

**GIRL & GUYS:** The third one.

**DARIA:** Fabulous. (_pauses to write it down._) Now the final question: do you think aliens from another planet who've had no exposure to our culture could possibly do a worse job teaching us than the ones whom we call human beings?

**GIRL & GUYS:** No.

**DARIA:** Su-perb. (_writes this last bit down._) Okay, that concludes this week's survey. Thank you for your participation, and have a nice day.

(_The students shrug, leave. Jane looks confused._)

**JANE:** That wasn't the third question. And there were a lot more.

**DARIA:** I know, I just felt like getting rid of them. (_sighs. can't contain her irritation._) These new surveys aren't as much fun as I thought they'd be.

**JANE:** Well at least they're better than those old ones you had.

**DARIA:** Not really. They just fill space, same as the other ones. There's nothing thought-provoking, nothing that attempts to educate the student body. (_Bt_) So of course, my editor would just happen to think they're **oomphy** enough to be published.

**JANE:** That alone would drain the thrill from your act of rebellion.

**DARIA:** And seeing those idiots jump on you about that school violence crap again just pushed me over the edge.

**JANE:** (_sighing_) It can't be helped, Daria. My mural is **art**: people see in it what they think is there. That's the whole point.

**DARIA:** Yeah, well if I have to stand idly by while people act **stupider** every day, I might as well not even be on the school paper. (_sighs._) I think I'm gonna quit.

**JANE:** And lose the bet?

**DARIA:** Yeah.

(_Beat_)

**JANE:** Hmm, so I guess **that's** your Plan B.

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 3 (_Morgendorffer house, Saturday afternoon_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Helen sitting at the kitchen table. She's wearing a smock again, and the table itself is covered with newspapers and a square wooden board. Upon that, Helen is busy working on another clay sculpture. She molds it with her hands, and sometimes will take a "tool," like an old fork, and run it across the surface to give it more texture. In its present state, the sculpture doesn't look like anything one could recognize. It is essentially formless, and Helen seems to realize this.)

(At one point she sits back and gazes at what she's made with a pensive expression. What the Lanes, especially Trent, said about doing something you love even if you have to make other sacrifices, or if you never excel at it, still weighs heavily on her mind. But their words make less sense now than they did earlier: her passion for art doesn't equal Trent's for playing the guitar, and certainly not Amanda's or Jane's passion for art. Hence, Helen still has a lot of reservations about what she's doing, and continues to hesitate in the midst of sculpting.)

(She's just resumed when Daria walks into the kitchen to get something to eat. Daria looks at the mess Helen's made on the table.)

**DARIA:** Decided to slack off work today?

(Helen flinches a little -- she was so busy concentrating, she didn't even realize Daria was there.)

**HELEN:** Oh goodness... what time is it?

**DARIA:** Almost three.

**HELEN:** Three **o' clock**?? I didn't realize... (grimaces with frustration, beats her hand against her forehead, leaving traces of reddish-brown clay.) Dammit, I was just going to do this for an **hour**, then go to my office to catch up on work. That was **three** hours ago!

**DARIA:** You could probably still make it.

**HELEN:** Hmm, maybe I... (_groans_) oh what's the **use**? (_gets a dispirited look on her face._) I'll just go in tomorrow. But I can only **imagine** what Eric is thinking right now...

**DARIA:** (_for Helen's sake, trying to change the subject_) What're you making?

(Pause. Helen looks at the sculpture probingly. She opens and closes her mouth several times in an attempt to explain, then finally exhales softly. Shakes her head.)

**HELEN:** I don't... really **know**, to be honest. I just got this urge, and... I set everything up... and before I knew it, I was just **molding** something. (_Bt_) You should try it sometime, Daria: it's very peaceful.

**DARIA:** Um, sure. (_Bt_) Have any thoughts of what it's **going** to be?

(_Pause_)

**HELEN:** (_wilting a tad_) No.

(Suddenly she reaches for the fork and stabs it into the clay. Daria flinches.)

**DARIA:** It's not **that** bad.

**HELEN:** Oh no, I... I just thought some holes might add to the texture...

(Again she looks long and hard at her creation, considers the Lanes' advice, wonders if what she's made could even remotely be called "good." She sighs, gets a "What am I turning into?" expression on her face. Daria shrugs and heads toward the fruit basket to get an apple. As she's coming back toward the table, Helen turns to look at her with an imploring expression.)

**HELEN:** Daria? If it's all right with you... could I ask you to be honest about something?

**DARIA:** (_surprised by her mom's hesitation_) Sure.

(_Beat_)

**HELEN:** Do you... enjoy being on the school paper at all?

(_Beat. Daria shrugs._)

**DARIA:** I'll admit I've had better times.

**HELEN:** Well I don't want you to do it because you feel it'd please **me**. (_Bt. shakes her head._) I know, I know, we have our little **bet** going -- but I'd just as soon **drop** it if it meant you'd be happier.

(_Daria looks at her, even more surprised._)

**HELEN:** I mean I **wanted** you to try something different, but if you just don't feel like it's **you**, if you feel as though you're not getting what you **want** out of it, then by **all** means... quit.

(As she says this, her eyes trail toward her sculpture and linger on it for a few seconds. Daria notices, and picks up a double-meaning in her mom's words. She cocks an eyelid.)

**DARIA:** Don't know if I **should** quit now. I mean things may have started out slow, but I feel like I've just hit my stride -- if you know what I mean.

(Pause. Helen absorbs the double-meaning in Daria's words, and nods with a faint smirk and some resignation.)

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 4 (_Lawndale High, Monday_)

(_Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Jane and Daria walking down the hall._)

**JANE:** So, ready to tell your editor where he can **shove** his oily charm?

**DARIA:** Um, actually... I have other plans.

**JANE:** (_surprised_) **Other** plans?

**DARIA:** Yep.

**JANE:** So what caused the turn-around?

(_Beat_)

**DARIA:** You know that social conscience I don't have?

**JANE:** Uh-huh?

**DARIA:** It got to me.

**JANE:** (_smirking_) No kidding.

**DARIA:** Well, among other things. This weekend I realized that by focusing so much on beating Mom, I wasn't fulfilling my potential with this damn paper.

**JANE:** (_admitting_) Yeah, your evil powers haven't exactly been on full throttle, lately.

**DARIA:** (_nodding_) And I'd never forgive myself if I just quit without showing those jerks on staff what a **real** article looks like.

**JANE:** (_wicked smirk_) Ooh, sounds exciting. So what's your topic gonna be?

**DARIA:** I'm not sure -- I'm still working it out. But I **do** know it'll require some more **surveys**...

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 5 (_Lane residence, evening, later in the week_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to close-up of Helen at work on her sculpture. We see that it has grown larger, multi-layered, and more textured, but is still unidentifiable. From off screen, we hear the sounds of Trent playing "Hey Jude" on his guitar. Just then Amanda breezes up to Helen's table, examines her work.)

**AMANDA:** Now **there** is a piece that has spirit infused into it!

**HELEN:** (_glow of pleasure filling her cheeks_) Oh? Thank you.

**AMANDA:** Don't thank **me** -- it was all your doing. (_pats Helen's shoulder, then glances at the materials she's used._) Oh, and you have **plaster** as part of your base. (_raises a brow._) So your little accident **didn't** frighten you away.

**HELEN:** No, no... (_sighs and smirks with some sheepishness._) I decided it was **worth** another try.

**AMANDA:** The rigidity of the plaster juxtaposed with the pliancy of the clay -- how... **metaphoric**.

**HELEN:** Um... right.

**AMANDA:** It'll be a real **treat** to view it when it's on display.

(_Pause_)

**HELEN:** (_eyes widening with alarm_) D-**display**??

(Amanda doesn't respond -- she's already moved to the center of the room to face the class.)

**AMANDA:** Everyone? I thought that for our farewell class in two weeks, we could have our work out on **display** upstairs -- for us to **look** at and share ideas, and for perhaps a few friends to see. How does that sound?

**CLASS:** Sure/ Good/ Definitely.

**HELEN:** (_still overcome by alarm_) Bu-but isn't that like some sort of **judging**?? I didn't think -- y-you told me this wasn't **that** kind of class. (_shrinks behind her sculpture._) I don't want people to see this.

(Several barely-concealed groans can be heard throughout the room. Greg, however, smiles with understanding, as does Amanda.)

**GREG:** Relax, Helen. It's more like an exhibit. No one gets a prize for **best** sculpture.

**HELEN:** But still... people will judge it in their **minds**. "Not **big** enough... too **crude**... too **ugly**." I know **I** think that whenever I go to an art exhibit.

**AMANDA:** (_patient_) Well then at least you'll be there to set them straight -- explain your **purpose** for making your piece. (_Bt_) Helen, no **single** criticism can take away its value, just like no one person can **define** what it represents. Art is an ever-**fluctuating** thing.

(Helen nods, comprehending somewhat, but still feeling rather confused and worried.)

**GREG:** And how can you pass up the chance to show your loved ones that there's **more** to you than meets the eye, huh? (_winks at her._)

(_Helen stops nodding, and her face takes on a resigned expression._)

**HELEN:** (_quiet_) That's if they care to look in the first place...

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 6 (_Morgendorffer house, evening, later that week_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria sitting on the couch, looking over several filled-out surveys with a wicked smirk on her face.)

**JAKE:** (_off screen_) Daria?

(_Daria pauses and looks up at him as he approaches sheepishly and sits down._)

**JAKE:** Um, you know that art thing your mother was talking about? She didn't want us to **go**, did she?

**DARIA:** Her mumbled delivery and offhand approach **did** suggest she had reservations.

**JAKE:** Great! I read it **right**, then!

**DARIA:** Bu-ut, if she were completely opposed to the idea, I doubt she'd have mentioned it at all.

**JAKE:** (_worried_) You're right. That was one of those **reverse** psychology deals, wasn't it?

**DARIA:** You got it, Sherlock.

**JAKE:** Damn, I always **miss** those.

**DARIA:** Tomorrow is another day.

**JAKE:** Yeah. (_Pause_) Daria?

**DARIA:** **Yes**? (trying to be patient, but she **really** wants to get back to the surveys.)

**JAKE:** Y' know it's funny... (_chuckles uneasily_) Whenever your mother brings up art, she gives me this look that's kind of, um...

**DARIA:** Pissed off?

**JAKE:** (_blushes_) Um... yeah. I'm not telling her what she wants to hear, am I?

**DARIA:** Somehow I suspect not.

**JAKE:** I guess it's 'cause... this art stuff just came out of the blue. I didn't realize how much it **meant** to her. (_Bt_) So what **should** I say??

**DARIA:** How should I know?

**JAKE:** Aw c'mon: I see you and your mother talk. At least it **looks** like you do...

(_Daria sighs at his misconception, then gets a thoughtful look on her face._)

**JAKE:** You gotta have **some** idea.

(_Beat_)

**DARIA:** Well... to **me**, the common sense solution would be to take an **interest** in what she's made.

**JAKE:** Show more **enthusiasm** -- of course! (_Bt_) Like say her sculpture looks good?

**DARIA:** That'd be a start.

**JAKE:** **Great**. (_practice mumbling._) "Damn fine sculpture, sweetheart. It looks **wonderful**." Thanks for the advice, kiddo!

(He reaches over and musses Daria's hair, surprising her so much that she drops her surveys.)

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 7 (_Lawndale High, the next week_)

(Shot of the outside. Cut to shot of Daria and Jane standing next to the wall with the mural. Several students are with them, filling out surveys, including Brittany, Kevin, Mack, Jodie, and Upchuck. Brittany and Kevin look really worried as they fill theirs out, Brittany almost to the point of tears. When Upchuck's finished, he grabs his head and moans loudly. Daria and Jane exchange satisfied smirks.)

**MACK:** (_handing his completed survey to them_) Pretty damn cool, you guys. It's about **time** someone had a survey like this.

**JODIE:** (_also finished. to Daria_) There now, you see? Sometimes school activities **can** bring out the best in you.

(_Daria rolls her eyes._)

**DARIA:** (_sardonic_) Thanks for rubbing it in. You **do** realize you've just drained all my enthusiasm for this scheme?

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 8 (_Lane residence, evening of the art exhibit_)

(Shot of the outside. We see several cars parked along the curb, and lights glowing in the downstairs windows. Just then, the Morgendorffers' Lexus approaches. Cut to the inside. Everyone appears calm, except Helen, who's fidgeting nonstop. Jake is in his practiced-enthusiasm mode, Quinn is trying not to look too bored, and Daria is her usual impassive self. Resume outside shot. The Lexus parks.)

(Cut to shot of the living room of the Lanes' house. We see several people standing around in clusters, chattering and examining the sculptures, which are out of our view. Most are members of the class; others appear to be friends or family members. The living room itself looks transformed from what we knew it to be in "Lane Miserables." All of the furniture has been moved to make way for the sculptures, and the lighting of the room has a soft yellow glow, making the room seem bright, but not too bright. Off to the side, we see several lit candles, and beside them, Jane, Tom, Trent, and Jesse.)

(Jane is dressed in her usual artist's attire, but Tom is casually dressed-up in a sweater and tweed blazer. Trent and Jesse, for once, have changed their outfits for the occasion: both are wearing black [and I might as well tell the 'shippers: black looks really **good** on Trent]. They've just finished playing a mellow version of an alternative rock song on their guitars, and are now observing the evening's activity.)

**TRENT:** I'm really gonna be sorry when this class is over. Best paying gigs I've ever gotten.

**JESSE:** Yeah -- you've been holding **out** on us, man.

**TRENT:** Sorry, bro.

**TOM:** (_to Jane_) Impressive, I gotta say.

**JANE:** Yeah. You know I have to commend my mom for the way she's been behaving these past several weeks. Supportive, mature, almost... cool. It took her a lot of work to put this together. (_Pause_) Hey, um, Trent? Where **is** Mom?

**TRENT:** Hmmm... (_Pause_) Oh yeah. (_raises his hand, reads from the palm._) Said the spirits of the desert were calling to her, so she took the first bus out to Arizona this morning.

**JANE:** (_rolling her eyes_) Figures.

(_Just then, Daria walks up to them._)

**JANE:** Hey, Daria.

**TRENT/ JESSE/ TOM:** Hey.

**DARIA:** (_deadpan_) Hey to you. (_pauses, looks around the room with wonder._) So **this** is what my mom and company have been working on, huh?

(Cut to her P.O.V. The sculptures are large, and most are perched upon raised black platforms that line the sides of the room. Their numerous colors, shapes, and materials attest to the different personalities of the class members. Resume shot of Daria and the rest.)

**TOM:** (_to Daria_) You feel like taking a swing around the room for closer inspection?

**DARIA:** Guess it can't hurt.

(_She, Tom, and Jane leave._)

(Cut to shot of Helen on the other side of the room, walking past the various sculptures, trying to show interest in them. Although she's able to put aside her fears enough to appreciate the efforts of other students, she can't help eyeing her own sculpture off screen. She leans over in that direction, trying to hear what people are saying about it. Meanwhile, Jake has been following close behind. He now pauses as Max, one of the other Mystik Spiralites, comes up to him with a tray of wine glasses. [Yes, the entire M.S. gang is here helping out.])

**JAKE:** (_taking a glass_) Boy, they really thought of **everything** tonight. (_big sip of wine._) So which one's your sculpture, Helen?

(Cut to shot of Daria, Tom, and Jane approaching the sculpture Greg's been working on. It's made mostly of plaster, and covered with a lot of natural materials: grass, pine needles, mud, moss. The natural ingredients appear to be spilling over several bright pink and yellow squares.)

**JANE:** (_reading the label_) It's called "If Nature Took Over."

**DARIA:** (_deadpan_) More like if the Swamp Creature took over. What the hell is this supposed to be?

**TOM:** Hmm, I think those square-thingys are houses. And they're getting buried.

**JANE:** (_sardonic_) I guess nature woke up one day and said "To **hell** with you, o materialistic consumer-driven society! I'm rising up and taking back what's mine!"

**DARIA:** Hmm, a Marxist mudslide. (_smirks, decides she likes the sculpture better._)

(Cut to shot of Quinn standing at "Satan's Death Stare," looking at it with a bleak expression. We see that a fully formed person has been carved into the log, in such a way that the person seems trapped in the wood, unable to escape. Daria, Jane, and Tom approach.)

**QUINN:** This is, like, **so** depressing.

**DARIA:** Really? Kind of reminds me of my life. (_smirks again._)

(Cut to shot of Helen and Jake. They are now closer to Helen's sculpture, but Jake has stumbled upon a mechanical sculpture, and is now completely absorbed in pulling switches, twisting knobs, and watching things light up. Helen is looking at a rock sculpture which has stairs carved into it, leading nowhere. Just then Greg approaches.)

**GREG:** (_warmly_) Helen. Your work's creating a quite a buzz.

**HELEN:** I-it is? (_pauses, takes a deep breath to ease her anxiety._) Um, Greg, you haven't met my husband, have you? (_Bt_) Jake?

(She waits several seconds for a reply, but Jake is so consumed by the mechanical structure that he hasn't heard.)

(Cut to shot of Daria, Quinn, Jane, and Tom walking up to a nude model, posing in a pretzel shape.)

**JANE:** Eduardo decided that the human body is the most beautiful of sculptures.

**DARIA/QUINN/TOM:** (_frowning_) Hmmmmmm...

(Cut to shot of Helen creeping up to where her sculpture's being displayed, with Greg following behind. The angle is such that we can see the people viewing the sculpture, but not the sculpture itself. Helen stops and strains to listen to people's comments.)

**MAN:** Fascinating design. Look at the curves...

**WOMAN:** It looks like it could leap out at you.

**MAN 2:** Unusual choice of color... but it adds to the piece. This thing's got emotions, no doubt about it.

(Helen's face brightens slowly, as she realizes no one is saying anything bad about her work. Nothing too praiseworthy, either; rather, each person seems to be making observations, viewing the piece in his or her own way.)

**GREG:** You seem to have made something that captures people's interest. Maybe you're not the poor sculptor you thought you were.

(He squeezes Helen's shoulder and leaves. Helen nods after him, then pauses to mull over what he's said. Just then, we see Daria, Quinn, Jane, and Tom approach. Their eyes widen upon viewing Helen's sculpture, except for Jane's -- she already knew what it looked like. Cut to their P.O.V. The sculpture rises above them like a giant wave. Only it's more than a wave -- it looks as though it has heads and limbs pushing out of it; winding trails with sharp curves line the sides; some parts are elaborately textured, others smooth as a piece of cloth. The colors are the kind that would normally clash on the color wheel: blue with orange, purple with green -- yet for some reason, they don't take anything away from the piece. Resume shot of Daria, Quinn, Helen, Jane, and Tom.)

**QUINN:** Whoa... it looks like some kind of **monster**. (_awkward pause. defensive_) But not, like, a **bad** one, or anything.

**HELEN:** It's okay, sweetie.

**TOM:** (_to Helen_) How long did it take you?

**HELEN:** Oh... (_pauses to think._) Two-and-a-half weeks. A little each day... I worked on it in the early hours before getting ready for work. (_Bt. sheepish_) Then last Saturday, I got carried away -- **six** hours.

**TOM:** Wow. You can really see all the effort that went into it.

**HELEN:** (_smirking a little_) Thank you. (Pause. sees Jane and Quinn nod in agreement, but that Daria is gazing intently at the sculpture.) Daria? Um, what do you think?

(_Pause_)

**DARIA:** Hmm... (_thoughtful frown._) I think it's too difficult to describe in a sentence or two. I'd rather hear what **you** were thinking as you spent all those hours making it.

(_Beat. Helen looks surprised, then pleased by her response._)

**HELEN:** Well... (_rolls her eyes humorously._) I don't **know**, really. I'd be down in our basement by myself... it'd be quiet and dark, although **sometimes** I'd play music... and my mind would just **wander**. (_Bt_) Then as I was working, I'd think something like, "This could **really** use a head" -- and I'd make one. That's why it's so, um... all **over** the place. (_Bt. sheepish_) It's **too** incoherent, isn't it? I couldn't even give it a name.

**DARIA:** That's okay -- I don't think it needs one. (_Bt_) And contrary to your belief, I think its meaning is pretty clear.

**HELEN:** You do?

**DARIA:** Yeah.

(Daria smirks at her. The smirk proves to be contagious, and Helen catches it. After several more seconds of looking, Daria, Quinn, Jane, and Tom move off screen to the next display, just as Jake is arriving.)

**JAKE:** (_eyes widening_) So that's your sculpture, Helen? Boy, does it ever look **great**!

**HELEN:** (_blushing a tad_) Why thank you, Jakey.

**JAKE:** Fantastic! The best sculpture in the room!

**HELEN:** Oh... well I wouldn't go **that** far -- everyone else's is nice, too. (_Bt_) So what catches your eye in particular?

(_long pause_)

**JAKE:** Well it's just... great. (_Bt_) And, um, **big**. Really, really big. (Pause. realizes he doesn't sound convincing. tries in vain to come up with ways to describe the piece.) And it's got colors and... **things** coming out of it. (_waves a hand weakly._)

(_As he speaks, Helen's enthusiasm fades a little._)

**HELEN:** So, um, that's what you think is so "fantastic" about it?

**JAKE:** (_nodding rapidly_) Oh **yeah**.

(_Beat_)

**HELEN:** (_irritation creeping in_) And that wasn't just some **knee-jerk** response designed to make me happy, when in fact you've scarcely given **thought** to what this sculpture could be about or what it meant to me to **make** it??

(_Pause. Jake blushes, revealing his guilt._)

**JAKE:** Of course... not.

(_Helen watches him for a few more seconds, then closes her eyes._)

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 9 (_Lawndale High, later that week_)

(_Shot of the outside._)

**EDITOR:** (_off screen voice-over_) Daria, we've **gotta** talk.

(Cut to shot of Daria sitting at a table in the newspaper room with the editor and some of his cronies, including the backward-baseball cap wearing Larry. As Larry and the others try to see who can burp the loudest, the editor looks at Daria's latest article with a poorly-concealed sneer.)

**EDITOR:** (_straining to sound nice_) Now look, after your first piece of writing, I thought we'd agreed upon what comprised **acceptable** oomphiness.

**DARIA:** (_deadpan_) I think **you** had.

**EDITOR:** And this, **this** is not **oomphy**. For starters, it's like a freaking **novel**. Students aren't gonna want to spend so much time reading. They want stuff that's **short**, stuff that's punchy.

**LARRY:** (_extracting himself from the burping contest_) Yeah. No one wants to read stuff that'll, like, hurt our heads and give us brain drain, or whatever.

**DARIA:** I doubt brain drain's something **you'd** have to fear.

**LARRY:** Hey, um... that was a put-down, wasn't it?? She's making fun of me **again**, Joe!

**EDITOR:** Don't mock another member of the Lowdown family, Daria. (_Pause_) And as for your topic... hate to say it, but it's a real **downer**.

**DARIA:** A topic of mine?

**EDITOR:** (_reading_) "Problem Teens: a Compre-something Look at What's Gone Wrong in Our Schools and What Could be Done **Differently**"??? (_shakes his head with obvious disdain._)

**DARIA:** Would you have preferred my original title: "Do or Die at Lawndale High"?

**EDITOR:** I **thought** you were happy doing surveys. Those cute, weird ones.

**LARRY:** Yeah, I liked that space alien stuff.

**DARIA:** (_rolling her eyes_) Look, this article wasn't written to be "downbeat": it's an intensive study backed by secondary research of the main problems with our school. I got a lot of my "downer" information from the students themselves -- through massive survey-taking.

**EDITOR:** Are you saying you **abused** your survey privileges?

**DARIA:** When you put it that way... **yes**. (_Bt_) And I'll confess that when I started out, I sort of treated this as a joke. But the responses were... well, **eye**-opening. Some people even finished their surveys in tears.

**EDITOR:** Well of **course** they did.

**LARRY:** Yeah, no one wants to be reminded of how depressed they are at school. That's, like, not what the paper's about.

**DARIA:** Then what is it about?

**EDITOR:** For **escape**, of course! To give people a good laugh. I can't believe you've been on the paper this long and **not** realized that.

**DARIA:** (_rolling her eyes again_) Actually, that message came through loud and clear -- but I chose to ignore it in favor what you **originally** said the paper was for: to allow all points of view to be shown.

**LARRY:** Ha-ha-ha, that's a **good** one!

**DARIA:** Yeah, **I'll** say. This is the one time I let my idealism override my irony -- maybe the only time. (_Bt_) I don't expect everyone to read my damn article, but I **do** believe it's got as much right to be in the paper as anyone else's. It doesn't name names, it's not overly biased, and hell -- it's even got an optimistic ending. That's a personal record, if I do say so myself.

(She's met by silence. The editor and his cronies actually appear to be listening.)

**DARIA:** So if you can be big enough to accept my work, I think we'll all be pleasantly surprised by the feedback...

(_cut to: _)

SCENE 10: (_Morgendorffer house, early evening, a few days later_)

(_Shot of Jane and Daria walking up the front walkway._)

**JANE:** So you think that got you kicked off the staff?

**DARIA:** Probably. Although they hid behind a technicality -- my margins were too wide.

**JANE:** Horror of horrors. (_Bt_) Well, at least you tried.

**DARIA:** Worst of all, I heard Larry took my article, put his name on it, and sold it over the Internet to the one of those education experts for two grand.

**JANE:** Damn.

**DARIA:** It's enough to drive a cynical stake through the sunniest of hearts. (_Pause_) Except ...

**JANE:** **Yes**?

**DARIA:** My heart's already too damn cynical to be affected. (_Bt. smirks_) So I may just have to try this again some day.

**JANE:** You serious? Hmm, so this bet experience really **did** have an impact on you. (_Bt_) How's your mom been?

(_She and Daria reach the front door of the house and walk inside._)

**DARIA:** Since class finished up, she's been back at the grindstone with a vengeance. I haven't heard a single word that's art related.

(_They head toward the kitchen._)

**JANE:** And my mom's still in Arizona, trying to channel the old spirits of the desert through her new kiln. (_shrugs_) So I guess things're back to normal.

(Just as she says this, she and Daria stop abruptly and pause to look at a mess on the kitchen table. It appears as though Helen's modeling clay again: the table top is blanketed with newspapers, a clay heap stands atop a wooden board, and several forks are lying about. Daria smirks.)

**DARIA:** Or maybe not.

**** THE END [roll the credits.........................]

COMMENTARY

This fanfic is an example of what you can achieve when you draw upon interesting life experiences. Both the Helen and Daria plot lines derive from my involvement with a sculpture class (_last year_) and the high school newspaper. I can attest that there's a huge amount of truth behind what takes in both of them. The idiots whom Daria has to deal with on the paper were modeled after guys I had to work with -- though luckily I didn't get thrown off the staff, and I became editor the year after they left. Their obsession with feel-good articles ("Seniors Havin' Fun in the Sun" **was** an actual headline in our paper!) and the students' total ignorance of major social issues were nearly mirror images of my experiences.

Helen's plot line was a little more fictionalized. In my sculpture class, we would work on one type of project as a group -- three weeks on plaster, three weeks on wood, etc. -- after having received detailed instructions from our prof. Then we would take a session to critique each other's work. And **no** one got hit with a bucket of plaster! However, the atmosphere of Amanda Lane's art class was very true to that of my real one: the amazing variety of projects, the philosophy that there's no such thing as the "best" sculpture, and the tendency of people to get **really** messy without even trying. :-) You just try to wash plaster out of your clothes...

I will confess that although Helen and Daria both have a starring role in "Breaking the Mold," this is really Helen's fic. I've been wanting to do one that explores her character since way back when I wrote "The Tie That Chokes." For some twisted reason, I love the gal. Paperpusher and I could form a two-person Helen fan club (I recall reading in a post that she was one of **his** favorite characters). To me, her vulnerability extends beyond her aggressive, take-charge, can-do fa 


End file.
